myself because I could not ask another person to tell
my story. It must be a secret. You understand?'
'Very well. Go on,' said Holmes. He closed his eyes
and listened.
'Five years ago I met a woman called Irene Adler.
We ...'
'Ah,' said Holmes, 'Irene Adler, born in 1850,
singer, lives in London, a very beautiful woman,
I hear ... ' He looked at the King. 'You and she ... You
loved her, for a while, and then left her. But before you
left her, you wrote her some letters perhaps. And now
you want to get these letters back.'
'That's right.'
'Did you marry her?'
'No.'
'If she asks you for money and shows you the letters,
you can say that you didn't write them.'
'But Mr Holmes, she also has my photograph.'
'You can say that you didn't give her a photograph.'
'We were both in the photograph.'
'Oh dear. That was a mistake, Your Majesty.'
'I know. I was stupid ... but I was very young!'
'You must get the photograph back. Can you steal it
from her house?'
'I have tried five times but my men couldn't find it.
What can I do?'
Holmes laughed. 'This is very interesting. What does
she plan to do with the photograph?'